Flowers in the Attic
by Commodus
Summary: A trip to the attic brings the new generation of Mellark to begin to wonder what happened in the past, and learns she isn't the only flower in the attic. Title based on the series of books by V.C. Andrews.
1. Flowers in the Attic

FLOWERS IN THE ATTIC

One simple trip around your very own house can change your perspective of everything.

The Victor's Village houses were significant compared to the rest of the houses in district twelve. The houses were all taken by the first people to return to the district after the war. Most of the houses had large empty spaces with the people of twelve coming from a life of poverty and little comfort to a safe and warm place to live.

The houses were decorated different ways, inside and out. Some of the houses had lawn decorations placed in front of the house; some of the older residents had magnificent looking gardens filled with many different colours.

The neighborhood was not outside today. The weather caused games to cancel and gardens to water by themselves. The residents spent their time indoors on days like this. Inside one of these homes was a young woman with an adventurous mind.

Heather had never been in the attic before. Her parents had always told her to never go up there. But Heather was a bit of a rebel, she wanted to know what her parents were hiding from her for her whole life. What sort of past could they have that they didn't want her to know about? Being fifteen, she thought she could handle anything.

She took the ladder that she found hidden in the laundry room of the house and brought it up to the entrance of the attic. She climbed up and opened the latch. Heather than stepped inside, whipping the dust of her clothes, and looked at her parents past.

Boxes and shelves filled almost every inch of the attic, yet there was still enough space to reach every place they were kept, her father's idea, of course. Like her, he probably would come up here to remember or learn about old times.

Many of the boxes had simple words on them; kitchen, photos, baking/cooking. The boxes were all different sizes and sometimes, colours. They all had names on the except for one.

That was the one she was intrigued by the most.

Reaching on top of one of the shelves, she got a closer look at the box. It had a light pink, flowery design on it. Although this was the one that caught her eye, there were many boxes the same size that had different patterns on them. She held the miniature box in her hands to take a look for a title, none was in sight, but each flower looked as if it was hand-painted. It was beautiful.

Heather opened the box. It was filled with small items, mainly pictures and drawings. But it also had real objects like a blue piece of fabric, a ribbon and a bell, and a duck feather. Heather then found the label on the box on the inside under the lid; it said one word carefully written in bright purple paint, Primrose.

Heather began to look through the photos that were at the bottom of the box. They were all pictures of this one little girl, who looked to be about twelve in the most recent picture. Occasionally there was a picture of her with this mangy looking cat, and sometimes there was a strange goat next to her. She was a very pretty little girl; she had long blond hair and beautiful blue eyes.

Then Heather found a drawing of the girl with three other people all smiling happily as if smiling for a real photo, not just a drawing. One man, and two other women, the very detail on all of their faces made it completely recognizable of who these women were.

The older looking one was the exact version of a very young grandmother of Heather's. She was very beautiful, and looked so happy to be with these people. The girl in every picture looked about six in this time, and the ten year old sitting on the man's knee was the exact image of Heather's mother.

Heather then noticed that this was a picture of _her_ family too. The man must have been her grandfather, who she heard died when her mother was young. Her grandmother and mother were here, so that means that young Primrose is related to Heather too.

Heather heard her parents up late after she went to sleep sometimes. Many times her mother would get emotional, and her father would comfort her. Occasionally she heard words like 'I miss them so much' and names, or so she believed. 'Cinna, Finnick, _Prim_'. Could this Prim they were talking about be the Primrose this box was based on?

Her parents kept so much from her. She hastily put the box back on the shelf to get the thoughts to leave her mind. But Heather wasn't finished her adventure to the attic just yet. She found a box on the shelf that was much simpler, plain yellow.

Under the lid the name said 'Rue'. Thinking back to her parent's late night conversations, Heather vaguely remembered the name Rue being spoken, but was sure it was. There were no pictures of Rue, only drawings. But by the looks of her, Rue also didn't live to be old either. In every picture Rue looked as if she was ten or eleven. But a simple scripture had her information on it:

Rue. Age twelve. From District 11. _Thanks for being a great ally. –_Katniss.

Ally? _Why would mother ever need an ally?_ Heather thought. Most people don't make allies for no reason what-so-ever. There must have been some life-threatening event happening at this time in life that Rue and her mother would feel the need for protection from one another.

Rue's death seemed to be dated seventeen years ago, when Heather's mother was sixteen. Being fifteen, nothing in her life seemed dangerous enough that she would need help in staying alive. The more Heather found about Rue and Primrose made her wonder what her parents have been hiding from her for all these years, what could have happened in their lives that could be so devastating that they couldn't bear to tell their only daughter?

Rue, Prim, and Heather. All three of them were flowers. Beautiful wild flowers that would grow in the meadow. Could Heather possibly be named a flower in memory of Primrose or Rue? Maybe, all of these boxes are here to remember people who have died in individual ways. After all, the boxes are all designed differently. Some boxes had different colours, plain grey, waves, and many more different symbols. But the flowered boxes of Prim and Rue kept Heather's attention.

Heather climbed back down the ladder after putting the boxes away and shutting the trap door firmly. She still had the house to herself while her parents and brother were out, and was, of course, eager to ask her parents about what she had seen in the attic. But Heather decided against it. Her parents didn't have to tell her if the memories weren't something they wanted to discuss.

But Heather's curiosity did die down a little, now that she knew that there was a Primrose and Rue, and they were loved very much. With the idea that they had their own memory boxes, Heather figured, she will have two other flowers to look up to all the time.

THE END

**Hello! If you guys actually read to the end of this then thank you for reading ****my (current) longest one-shot evar****! And maybe…have something to say about it? In a review? Thanks a bundle! **

**- Snahoo**


	2. Petals on the Wind

PETALS ON THE WIND

The Sun warmed her skin. The meadow was welcoming.

It was a peaceful Tuesday afternoon. District 12 was just quieting down after all of the students went home from the school. No one had noticed her.

Heather was lying in the long grass of the meadow, surrounded by the sweet scent of flowers and nature. She didn't know how long she had been there, but she didn't seem to mind, it was too relaxing for anything to make her worry.

She ran her hands through the silky, green, grass and looked up at the sky above. The clouds were very puffy and round, and as always, Heather tried to find shapes/pictures in them. None of the clouds seemed to take form as something; they all stayed in their simple, rounded form.

Her hands kept on finding little oval plants sprouting out of the ground. Heather was very curious, and this made her look to see what these strange objects could be.

She took one of the little ovals and picked it, getting a closer look at it. It was, as far as Heather knew, a small wind flower bulb. The flower that was sprouting had yellow, jagged peddles that seemed to fit together like a puzzle piece when closed. Heather could instantly tell what type of wildflower it was.

Rue.

The rue flower. The one of two types of flowers that made her wonder about her life. This is the flower that District 11's Rue was named after. Heather was never told about her personally, she only knew about her from her secret trip to the attic. Young Rue, an 'ally' of her mother's. She was only twelve years old when she died.

Every description that Heather read about Rue showed her that she was a good person. Rue was a sweet little girl who loved music, trees, and mockingjays. Heather had never seen a mockingjay before. Apparently, mockingjays were once all over Panem, but the most recent picture of a mockingjay that was in Rue's memory box was dated fifteen years ago, the year Heather was born.

The bird mockingjay was mentioned in other boxes too. Heather remembered looking through other boxes on the shelf that day in the attic. One box was covered in different coloured fabrics, and inside, under the lid, the name clearly said:

'Cinna'.

According to the information Heather found in the box, this Cinna person was from the Capitol, and was her mother's stylist. The box said that Cinna turned her mother's wedding dress into a mockingjay, and he created the mockingjay suit. But why would Heather's mother need a stylist? Was she famous, and needed to look beautiful, in fabulous clothes made by a designer?

Heather put this topic out of her mind and began to wonder what her parents were hiding from her. There was much evidence in the attic, but it didn't explain as much it would if she was told about it by the people who lived through this dramatic time period.

Heather sat bolt upright. She learned something at school that was supposed to start nineteen years ago, and ended eighteen years ago. A rebellion, the Capitol against the districts. These deaths of the people on the shelf all happened within that time period, except for Heather's grandfather. Could these people have possibly died because of this rebellion?

Heather wished she knew more about the rebellion. She relaxed on the grass again, looking up at the sky, and began to run some questions through her head. Who started this rebellion? If it was such a big topic, why won't they tell us more about it in school?

Her thoughts left her mind once again when her foot found something small and prickly. She sat up to get a look at this weed that poked her. Another name instantly hit her full force.

'Primrose'.

This young primrose had premature thorns, and was young and innocent just like how her aunt was described in her memory box. Heather couldn't even think to pick, kill, this little flower. It still had a long life ahead of it; this little flower could grow up to be the old women that her aunt will never be. Primrose Everdeen was dead.

The wind blew by fiercely and snapped Heather back into reality. She had a strange idea, a sort of memorial for the aunt she will never know. Heather will never know any of her aunts, uncles, or cousins, so she got up from her comfortable spot and looked around for something to use.

She went over to a field of the little rue flowers and carefully dug then out of the ground, replanting them around the primrose. She then went and picked different wild flowers of blues and pinks, and spread them around the flower too. It looked beautiful, but she needed to do more.

She spotted the flower with the perfect petals over by the fence that separated District 12 from the forest. A beautiful, young patch of Heather flowers. She carefully picked the petals off of a couple of the flowers and walked back over to the primrose. Looking at the mountains beyond District 12, she spoke a prompt.

She thanked the people who gave their lives in the rebellion and her family she will never know. Mentioning some by names, as a proper thank you. She especially thanked her young aunt, and her other young friend, Rue. When she finished, Heather waited for the right gust of wind to come by, and tossed the pale pink Heather petals into the air.

They danced around in the air with such grace and beauty. Twirling in the wind as they headed off towards the mountains and beyond.

Heather then left the meadow and her little memorial primrose, and headed to her home. The district was practically empty, everyone either still at work or now home. Her parents spent all day at her father's bakery. Baking and who knows what else. When she arrived home, as she suspected, no one was there. She took out her house key, when she opened the door; she looked at the large primroses on her front lawn. Heather watched the first peddle to ever fall off the flowers all year.

Fall was approaching.

**Alrighty! Be prepared for chapter three coming next Tuesday! Just to let you all know, there will be FIVE chapters in this; all based on the book titles in the Dollanganger Series. And thank you to Mockingjay1804 for the review and the idea for the series!**

**-Snahoo**


	3. If There Be Thorns

**What's up, guys? So here you are, Chapter Three.**

**I don't own The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does. I DO, however, own Heather.**

**Knock yourselves out.**

IF THERE BE THORNS

For the first time in what felt like forever, it was uncomfortable for Heather to be at home.

The weekend was the hardest, when she didn't have school. Heather had to spend time at home, in a house full of secrets and lies. Her parents thought she didn't spend enough time with them anymore, but they didn't know what Heather had seen.

Heather ignored her parents' pleas to get her to stay home, and would always go out among the district. Her parents could spend time together; not like they did enough.

She walked through the district more times than she could count when she didn't want to face her untrustworthy parents. But it was never always like this for Heather, and this was one of the rare moments with her that made her hate herself for having curiosity.

Heather could never hate her parents, but currently, she felt betrayed by them. She was their flesh and blood, and they have been keeping a huge secret from her. But now Heather had more time, and she was trying to figure out what happened before her life that was so dramatic and life-threatening more than anything.

Heather decided to take a walk in the forest. She wasn't afraid of it, even after all the stories the other people at school said about it. It was a calming place for her to relax, because no one ever came here, especially at this time in the year.

It was colder than it had been weeks ago. Heather knew fall was approaching; the leaves were turning from green to yellow and brown, and the smell of nature was at its highest. Every time Heather kicked some dear leaves out of the way in the forest, the smell would fill her up, and would relax her even through stressful times.

She sat down next to a big pine tree, where she could see the old District 12 fence, in case she needed to leave quickly. This was the only place that Heather found no secrets anymore. It was her place, where no one would go to and think of finding her. No more secrets, no more lies.

Heather sat there for what felt like hours. She was lost in her thoughts, what dramatic changes happened so quickly in her life, how more difficult it will be when she gets home, and her parents wonder where she went. Heather thought her parents wouldn't approve of her being in the forest; they would think it's too dangerous.

She tried her best to get the pine needles and sap out of her hair before going home. If her mother saw it, she would be in trouble. Her mother was like one of the primroses in front of their house, beautiful, but dangerous.

And Heather had enough thorns to deal with already.

When she tried to stand up again, her calf hit one of the large, sharp thistles that grew in the forest. She dug the whole thistle out of the ground carefully, and carried it through the district. Heather didn't mind if people stared, it comforted her. The thistles had more thorns in its life than Heather did.

When she arrived home, she planted the thistle behind the house, where no one could find it.

Heather quietly snuck back around to the front of the house. She knew her parents were inside, they had no work today, and not even the bakery was open. But when Heather slowly inched the door open, she stopped to listen to the sound she never usually heard coming from around the wall into the family room.

Her mother was crying.

Heather had never heard her mother cry. It didn't seem natural, because her mother never cried. She was the one person who could handle things even her father couldn't, like watching the new hunters bring in deer to turn into venison at the butcher, which her father would look at disgusted.

Heather closed the door quietly behind her in the house. She stood in the doorway, just to get a better listen in what was going on. She thought it would be hard to make out what words she was saying along with the sobs.

Heather made out many words, surprisingly. Her mother was very upset, and her father was trying to comfort her and tell her it would be okay. But her mother said she missed her, and she reminded her so much of _her_. Who was her? Who was she?

Then it finally kicked in. Her mother had said: "she can _never_ know". Heather's parents were talking about her. Her mother didn't trust her, and couldn't tell her their secret.

She went back out the door, forgetting the thistle, and walked back towards the forest. Heather had never felt angrier in her life. She couldn't believe her parents didn't trust her with information like this. Did they think she was too weak, and unfit to handle the information? Because if they did, they don't know that she has already been able to handle it for two whole weeks.

She reached the giant oak tree and kept walking. She walked all the way to a small pool in the forest to retrieve an old knife she found there. She needed protection in the woods.

Heather didn't know what was lying ahead of her, but she didn't care. She was leaving District 12, no matter who tried to stop her and what got in her way.

**DUN, DUN, DAHHHHHH!**


	4. Seeds of Yesterday

**What's up guys?**

**This chapter is different, it had DIALOGUE. I know, I'm shocked too.**

SEEDS OF YESTERDAY

"Heather," she called to her.

She didn't panic when she saw the girl standing there, calling her name, Heather should have been frightened, even, but inside, it felt safe.

The girl started at her, with a faint smile on her lips. She was very young, but as far as Heather could tell, very beautiful. As if she was never in harm's way, but Heather knew, she was.

"Rue," Heather called the girl. She was the same, young girl in the drawings, the memories. But she stood here, in the forest, looking as peaceful and beautiful as she was described.

Rue came forward, her long, dark hair and white dress flowing behind her as she walked, as if there was actually wind. Her dress went past her feet, but stayed completely clean. She walked up towards Heather without making a sound, and reached to help her off the ground where she was sitting.

Heather reached a nervous hand out towards her, and Rue grasped it gently. She helped Heather to her feet, and then stared at her with her shiny, brown eyes.

"You look like her." Rue said to Heather. She was clearly soaking in Heather's appearance, noticing her every feature. "Except for the eyes, they're your father's." Heather stayed silent, completely in awe.

She let go of Heather's hand, and began walking through the forest.

Heather followed her, she didn't know where she was going, and she didn't know the direction. But then, Rue stopped. She then knelt down to the ground and began searching for something through the leaves.

Rue then settled herself on that spot and looked at the small plant in her hand as Heather watched curiously. Then she walked over next to Rue, and sat down. Rue looked at her, and to the plant, and then gave it to Heather.

It was a plant Heather had seen before, but never knew what it was. It looked like a small weed, with thick leaves.

"She loves you," Rue said to Heather. "And she needs you." Heather found this strange. A little weed needed her? And how could it love her? It was a plant.

Heather dug a little deeper. The weed was symbolic. It didn't represent just a plant, it represented the person it was named after. This plant was the miniscule plant of Katniss.

Thinking back to her mother, Heather sighed. She was still mad at her, she felt as if she _didn't_ love her anymore. Her mother didn't trust her, didn't think she could accept whatever past that her parents had. It's not as if they killed people, right? Nothing could be so bad in a world where there was so much good.

But then again, her parents lived in the time of the second rebellion. Anything could have happened.

She told Rue she didn't want to go back, her parents didn't trust her. But Rue denied it.

"Of course they trust you, you're their daughter. But don't get me wrong, they have a fair reason to be untrustworthy occasionally. But, they only aren't telling you because… they _do_ love you."

"What is the secret then? Why are you here, aren't you dead?" Heather asked Rue, somewhat harshly as she stood up again. She wanted answers, and if her imagination, or the actual dead would tell her, she would take it.

Rue sighed. "Long before you were born, before _I_ was born, there was a rebellion known as the Dark Days."

That's the rebellion they talked about in school, although the teachers didn't have an exact name for it. Heather always called the 'Dark Days' the first rebellion. They never talked about the first rebellion at school unless they were talking about the history of Panem.

"The people of the current Panem revolted against the leaders. When everything was settled, Panem was divided into twelve districts, after thirteen was bombed and destroyed." Rue told Heather as she sat down on an old fallen tree. Heather was hearing the history of Panem in more detail from Prim then she had ever learned from school. Why would the teachers tell the students so little about their past?

"This was also the start of the Hunger Games, which I'm sure you heard about in school." Prim said to Heather. And she was right, Heather had heard about the Hunger Games. Each year, the districts would send out one male and one female to the Capitol for a fight to the death on live television for the whole country to watch. Apparently, they happened so the citizens could remember how they lost the rebellion in the Dark Days.

"The Hunger Games went on for seventy five years. I died in the 74th." Rue told Heather. It was then that Heather found an eerie feeling around her. Was this real? Or was it her imagination? Rue was dead, she said it herself, and then why did she come back from the dead?

Rue gave a huff. "That's all I know," She said to Heather while standing up. She then walked towards Heather and stared at her once again. Heather stared back. She wanted more answers then the end of the Hunger Games.

"That doesn't explain why my parents don't trust me." Heather told Rue. Rue pondered for a moment, and then looked confused. "Heather, haven't your parents ever told you how they met?" she asked, Heather shook her head. What an interesting story.

"Both of your parents were with me in the 74th Hunger Games, Heather. And from what I see, they made it out alive. If they didn't, you wouldn't be here." This confused Heather now, how could they both make it out alive? Only one could win. "I was dead before they were crowned victors, Heather. I don't know what happened clearly." Rue basically read her mind.

"This is all you can tell me? Now I'm all worked up, you have to tell me more!" Heather begged. This wasn't enough; it _still _didn't prove why her parents didn't trust her the way normal parents should. Rue just shook her head. "I'm sorry, Heather. But this is all I know, but don't worry. You'll find out very soon, but now I have to leave."

Heather looked at her, with uncompleted thoughts. When would she find out?

"_When _will I find out?" Heather asked her exasperated. Rue just stared at her, as if the answer was completely obvious. "It's not when you'll find out," she said, "It's where."

Where? Heather began thinking this, but soon had to abandon it when a strange bird landed on Rue's shoulder. Rue smiled, and petted the bird. "Let the mockingjay be your guide, Heather." She finished, and then disappeared without a glance back. The bird stayed visible, but flew up to a tree branch. It stayed completely still, starting at Heather.

How was this bird going to guide her to the answer? It didn't do anything. It just sat there, staring at her. But so suddenly, it flew off into the forest, leading her in no general direction.

Heather fought through pine trees as they scraped against her while following the mockingjay. She stopped when it stopped. It then looked off into one direction, sang a small whistle, and flew towards it. It disappeared when it entered into the garden in the middle of the forest. Heather didn't want to pick any of these flowers, after all:

This was a garden of Primroses.

**I'm sorrah guys, but I'm gonna have to get the last chapter out to you after the break, I've got a bit of a busy schedule, and I can't get it done in time, I'm sorry **

**Chapter five will be **_**extra**_** dramatic for you;)**


	5. Garden of Shadows

GARDEN OF SHADOWS

As Heather walked around the Primroses kept on poking her with their sharp thorns. She tried her best to navigate, to find out why there was a strange, massive rose garden in the middle of the forest.

It was very cloudy today, as it had been ever since she left home. She hadn't felt the warmth of the sun in days, but still refused to go back.

Rue's history lesson didn't make Heather change her mind. She never finished her tale. So, Rue died in the Hunger Games, but _why_ didn't her parents trust her? It wasn't worth the trip from the afterlife to tell Heather something she didn't want to hear.

The mockingjay flew around the garden whistling happily, it seemed it was finished leading Heather. But to her, it lead her nowhere important. Nobody was here to meet her like Rue was. Rue came back in what looked and felt like real flesh, not just a misty figure as Heather would've expected.

It suddenly started raining. The rain came down fast and unnaturally hard, causing all the flowers to get pushed around. The mockingjay sat down under a tree, its happy mood now washed over by the water. Heather stood over by a large pine tree to keep herself dry.

The rain didn't stop for hours, and Heather stayed under the tree, not knowing where to go elsewhere. The sun was out while it was raining, with clouds around everything but it, making it bright yet gloomy. Heather looked around at the many different colour petals. But one rose caught her attention more than the others.

It was as black as coal, including the stem. She decided to approach it, to see why it looked almost burnt.

Suddenly it burst into real, hot flames. They erupted so suddenly, causing Heather to jump back, watching the small ashes fall to the ground, then fly away in the direction of the wind, as if the rain wasn't there.

The ashes were stopped by a fallen log, in a pile of old leaves and trash. Heather was confused as to why the flower burst into flames, and went over to examine the ashes. But as she made her way over, she noticed something remarkable that caught her eye.

Squished up against the log were some of the petals from the Heather flower that she let fly through the air so long ago. They were all tattered and ruined from their long time tousling, but they were the same, dark pink petals Heather picked.

Heather didn't remember that day until this reminder. It was after she went to the attic, but before all this drama kicked into her life. She threw these petals when she was happy and thankful, but what was she thankful for?

She then remembered; her young aunt, Primrose, who died when she was much younger than Heather. The young Primrose who she was reminded of that day in the meadow, who she first learned about in a small box, made in honor of her death.

The mockingjay settled itself on the log and looked up at Heather with eyes that spoke everything it couldn't say. It knew what she was supposed to do; Heather now knew what she was supposed to do. Realization finally hit her.

She looked back at the mockingjay, her emotion written on her face clearly so the bird could understand her. It must have, because it regained its flight, and flew off in a direction so quickly and exact, it must have been practicing it for a long time, or just very good at direction.

Heather brought all this drama on herself. She again, blamed and disliked her curiosity overpowering her overall thoughts. She decided she was sick of a demon controlling her thoughts, turning everything she heard into something sick and regretful.

Heather didn't hate her parents, she felt regretful for thinking horrible thoughts about them. Her mother had lost the majority of her family and friends, and still managed to move on in her life. And from what Rue told Heather, if her mother was in the Hunger Games and still agreed to have a child, she is incredibly brave. It would be hard to have a child after seeing everything the young adults went through in the past.

This time as Heather followed the mockingjay back through the garden, none of the roses touched and cut her, they all looked as if they had parted for her to walk through without getting hurt. The rain also stopped, making the garden look much happier in only sunlight. Heather could see everything; the tall pine trees that were surrounded in the Primroses, every leaf and twig on the ground, even the small shadow of what looked like a person behind one of the rosebushes.

This made Heather freeze. Was someone watching her? How could there be a shadow of an actual _human_ without there being a person? It should have scared her, terrified her, but the shadow didn't do anything frightening, it simply stood there on the ground.

It looked like a girl, with long hair and a dress up to her knees. It moved in a happy manner, waving and facing Heather. Then it did the most remarkable thing, Heather thought.

The shadow started walking around the rosebush, still no human appeared, and stopped feet in front of Heather and the now perched mockingjay. It stood there, the shadow facing Heather's direction.

It made a hand motion to Heather, for her to come forward, to trust it. And for some strange reason, Heather did.

As she stepped towards it, the shadow began to walk away, not turning back. Heather was upset, she wanted to see it. She then followed it as it walked through the darkest part of the forest she had seen yet.

It was filled with all different types of trees, all crammed together in the dark fog that slunk through it. It looked so evil, and different than the beautiful garden behind her, but Heather didn't want to leave the shadow, she wanted to be around it, so if it wanted to walk through dark trees and fog, so did Heather.

Apparently so did the mockingjay, as it flew in after Heather, going silent as it flew through the fog. She couldn't see the shadow anymore, but she could hear it. It was hard for Heather not to crash into every tree that got in her way, from the fact that she couldn't see an inch in the thick fog.

Then, suddenly, a beam of light flooded into her eyes, blinding her for a few seconds. Heather rubbed them, trying to get them to adjust to this sudden intense light. She only opened them to see where she was, and what happened to the leaves that coated the forest. But when she opened her eyes, she was shocked.

The meadow had gotten much greener than when she left home, with more plants covering the grass than before. She turned around, going to look back at the forest that she just walked out of, but instead, looked at nothing but endless green of the meadow.

Had the forest and garden really exist at all? Heather wasn't sure, she wasn't sure at all. How she got home, after walking for miles in the forest, and getting so far away from District 12, she didn't know. But now, she didn't really want to think of it. She knew it was real, the mockingjay was just flying away now, and Heather was on her way home, for good.

THE END


End file.
